Spun
by something someone said
Summary: A certain blonde-haired boy is waiting for Kouha in the darkness. Spoilers for chapter 193.


Disclaimer: I don't own Magi.

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Ren Kouha had always liked dark places, not as much as Brother Mei, of course, but dark places offered a comfort that being out in the dirt and the dust simply didn't. The palace was full of dark places, secretive and tantalizing, that Kouha used to like to get lost in. But he also liked the tangy-sweet smell of blood, which was why he became the Kou Empire's Vanguard Supreme Commander, content to be nowhere but on the front lines.

This place is also dark and smells like blood, but Kouha can't say he likes it. It feels wrong, in a way he can't describe.

He rubs his hair. Surprisingly, it doesn't feel like the nest of tangles he expected it to be. It's smooth and soft and has just the right amount of sheen. He wonders why he should focus on such a little detail like that when there are a million questions spinning around in his head.

"En?" He calls out in the darkness, even though he knows he won't be heard. Because he knows En isn't here. Because he doesn't know what _here_ is.

But he _is_ heard. There is someone sitting with him in the darkness.

He wonders why hasn't noticed before.

"He won't hear you," the boy says. He sits, hiding his his face in behind his knees. "You died."

Kouha reaches for his blade, prepares to cut this kid's head off in a swift, elegant swing, but his hand reaches for something that's not there. "You're lying!" He shouts instead. His voice echoes and with each reverberation it sounds less and less sure of itself.

The other boy finally shows his face, looking at him him indifferently. That annoys Kouha. Like this person understands something he doesn't. "Well, maybe not exactly dead." He looks around, golden hair spinning. "Your soul has been absorbed by the Medium. It can't return to the Great Flow the way it is now."

Kouha wonders how long he will have to squeeze that neck of his before it stops breathing. It's a rather beautiful neck, attached to a rather beautiful face. Bruise marks would probably look like flower petals on a neck like that.

As if instinctively, the other person looks at him and smiles. "You want to kill me, don't you?"

That smile, too, is as beautiful as it is strange. It's not the frail, shy kind of beautiful Kouha has seen imitated by the ladies of court, whispering petty gossip where they think nobody can here them, nor the enamored smiles that his subordinates give him, pure adoration that he wishes he deserved more. It's a beauty tempered by steel and duty, hard truths and forgiveness. Magic and love.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he goes on, "but I'm also already dead."

His face is one of complete peace and in that moment something in Kouha snaps. Perhaps it has always been snapped. Perhaps it was never there to begin with.

In an instant, he's all over the other boy, strangling and screaming and trashing and remembering. He remembers a pain hot and thick tearing at his body and rending his skin. He remembers a sharp impact and a wet, cracking sound. And then there's nothing else. His grip loosens.

_Was that my...?_

But then he's forced backwards by a great and terrible force.

The other boy is standing now. He doesn't look any worse from the assault, but he fixes his clothing and pats his hair regardless.

Kouha sits and stares indignantly. "Being dead is stupid," he mutters. It's such a childish reply, but he's never cared if someone has viewed him as a child. It just makes it all the more sweeter when he executes them...

Except that won't be happening anymore.

It's painful to think about. He doesn't want to think about it.

"So, just who the hell are you anyway?"

"Titus Alexius." It's a very curt reply.

Kouha laughs. "You have the same name as that bitch from Reim."

Titus doesn't like that, as Kouha expects he wouldn't. His brows arches and the line of his mouth changes to a livid curve. But it's strange. Kouha doesn't feel any enjoyment from seeing him angry. Instead, he feels a tiny sensation of regret.

He leans against the wall, if it is a wall, and sighs. If this is what death is like, _it fucking sucks_.

"It's boring here," he finally says. "I wanna play with Jinjin, Junjun and Reirei again."

Titus doesn't say anything for some time. He stares out into the darkness and waits.

"I used to think so, too," he finally says.

"What?"

"That Lady Scheherazade was a terrible person. A bitch maybe." He sighs and that pretty smile falls languidly back into place. "But I don't anymore."

Kouha frowns. It's not the conversation he wants to have. Who cares about some old hag? But then, he's not entirely sure what conversation he's _supposed_ to have. This place makes him so confused. He had always pictured death as some sort of endless nothingness, a realm without sight or sound, without thought. It irritates him that he has to think so much. It's better to just hack and slash and slice away and ask questions later. But then, what's the point of doing _that_ here? What's the point of this hollow existence?

Kouha runs his fingertips through his hair. It's still perfect. Still not how he's expecting it to be.

"Hey, c'mere a second." He calls over.

"Why?" Titus crosses his arms and holds a haughty posture, his head cocked, his hips at a slant. There's something so refreshing about it: Kouha isn't used to being _refused_.

"Just c'mere." Titus reluctantly approaches. "Good, now turn around." And he reluctantly twirls.

Kouha runs a hand through his hair. It's silky and beautiful and wonderful. A little glee of excitement escapes his throat.

"That's all I wanted," Kouha says. "To touch your hair." He's just the slightest bit taller than the boy which means he can lean his forehead against Titus' neck, be buried in those golden strands. He puts his arms around Titus so he can't move and does exactly that.

Titus doesn't resist.

"The Great Flow, huh? What's that like?"

He plants little kisses on the back of Titus' neck. He tastes earth, mud and growing things. And something else Kouha can't describe. It's an odd flavor; not something he expected Titus, or even a human, to taste like.

"A place full of light."

Kouha lets go of him.

"You, too." Titus whispers, fixing his hair by running his fingers through it.

"What?"

"You're also full of light. I can't really see it, but I can sense it. Maybe Lady Scheherazade's powers are still with me, a little. Perhaps that's why our souls haven't been fully absorbed yet."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"There's too much light in us for this creature. Putting it simply, it can't properly digest us."

Kouha doesn't like this talk of light or mediums or digestion. He wants to nuzzle in Titus' hair again. He wants to pretend that this isn't the end, or whatever _after_ the end looks like. He wants to fall asleep curled up in the arms of this golden-haired stranger.

"I wasn't done yet." Kouha sighs. His knees feel shaky so he bends down. A wave comes over him, something that floods out all his arrogance and replaces it with a sob. He buries his head in his knees. He wanted to prove himself to En and Mei. He wanted to fight more battles with Meiho. He wanted to feel the sun on his face one last time.

He lets the thoughts crush him and for a moment he can feel himself, ever so slightly, disappear.

"No, don't!"

He feels someone tug on his hair and looks up to see Titus running his fingers through crimson strands. He smiles again, but this time it's a smile that Kouha knows, one that he's used himself, one composed of the insatiable thirst for life.

"I don't think it's ever done."

Titus lets go of his hair and starts to move away. At least, that's what Kouha thinks at first, but he soon realizes that Titus isn't moving, _he_ is. The lines around Titus blur and the darkness darkens. He can't even manage to say anything before the vision disperses like a figure from a shuddering dream.

He wakes up with the sun on his face and in Mei's arms.

"You okay?"

The sky is perpetually blue from beyond Mei's scarlet hair. It makes him forget about pain and death and dreams. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the dark shadow and feels for his sword, gripping it firmly in his hand.

He nods.

Before Koumei can say another word, he's equipping Leraje and heading out to join the others, a familiar smile still on his lips.


End file.
